In June 2007, I again recorded Minnesotan male choir Cantus live on location, this time in the glorious acoustic of Sauder Concert Hall at Goshen College, in Goshen, Indiana. The resultant CD, <I>While You Are Alive</I> (Cantus CTS-1208), is the eighth I have engineered of the group; it is a collection of 20th- and 21st-century works that explores, illuminates, and celebrates all stages of life, from birth to death.
It seems like forever ago that I became interested in Santogold's music. In fact, however, it's only been four months. What made that time so hard to stand was that I couldn't listen to her music as much as I wanted to, in the way that I wanted to. Sure, I could listen online. And I did. But that wasn't enough.
In the meantime, while waiting for Santogold, I have chanced upon so many other wonderful musicians and albums. I have had much to keep me occupied. Never, in fact, have I been without something new and exciting and moving. There is always something extraordinary to listen to. If anything, I am overwhelmed by all there is to discover. I worry that I will never be able to hear it all. This vinyl thing has led me to all sorts of interesting sounds.
If you are to believe all the promotions for the Compact Disc, simply buying a player will transport you instantly to sonic nirvana. No background noise! No distortion! Flat frequency response from 20 Hz to 20kHz, pIus or minus zilch! The most perfect sound that modern hightech can provide! But if CD sound is so perfect, what are so many people screaming bloody murder about? It seems that half the golden ears who hear it are smitten with hate at first hearing. The other half finds it the best thing since tax shelters.
Any difference that is at all audible must be treated as though it is huge!" John Atkinson declaimed, as Tom Norton and I rolled on the floor laughing. It was a slow day around the <I>Stereophile</I> offices, and the startlingly huge differences that our colleague was describing did strike us as rather piddling—so John began stentorophonically reciting rules from a mythical <I>Guidebook for Audio Reviewers</I> to gales of laughter all around.
<i>Cold Fact</i>, the recently unearthed 1960's psychedelic folk album from obscure Detroit songwriter, Sixto Rodriguez, has been pretty much everywhere these days. Last week, in fact, I walked by John Atkinson's office to hear him blasting the outstanding opening track, "Sugar Man."
Light In The Attic's lovely re-issue of Rodriguez's <i>Cold Fact</i> is limited to 1000 vinyl copies. Mine is number 139!
The vinyl is packed with a bonus 45, excellent liner notes, and a very cool poster. My only problem is I can't decide whether to hang the poster on my wall or keep it tucked nicely with the vinyl.
The poster shows that Light In The Attic will be releasing a second Rodriguez album in the near future. I'll be sure to pre-order that one, too.
I met up with Eden after work last Wednesday. We stormed through the midtown crowds and boarded the Uptown 1 train to Morningside Heights in beautiful Harlem. The train ride took no time at all. The last bit of our short trip took us way above ground, alongside tall office buildings, schools, and homes. It's a very special view.